


How to Claim a Super Soldier

by pherryt



Series: Mandatory Fun Day Prompts (Winterhawk) [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Caretaker!Bucky, Cuddling, Fluff, Kissing, Licking, M/M, accidental confessions, deaf!Clint, insecure!Clint, messing with the team, sick!Clint, tower fic, tub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Clint's tired, sick and feverish and can't be held responsible for his actions - right?...Yeah, he doesn't think Bucky's buying that excuse either...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: Mandatory Fun Day Prompts (Winterhawk) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555123
Comments: 30
Kudos: 231
Collections: Clint Barton Bingo, Mandatory Fun Day





	How to Claim a Super Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This story fought me.  
> it started with the MFD prompt and a particular Bucky bingo square in mind. then it became really clear that bingo square was never going to happen. And then it almost wasn't the MFD prompt either. Clint being sick just kinda wrote itself and i had to go back and add a few things in to make it work for the MFD prompt.
> 
> i am, however, assigning this to the freespace on my new clint barton bingo card :D cause why not? (Now i don't feel as guilty working on this when i should have been workign on other things instead)

Clint was a little out of it when it happened.

That probably wasn’t much of an excuse but, there you had it. He was half asleep, coffee deprived, and still aching and sore from their last mission. Seriously, why did his bones ache this much? He should have recovered by now.

He could have stayed in his room, but it had felt too big and too lonely, so he’d straggled out to the common area with a blanket, thought about food and gave it up as too much effort.

Flopping down on the couch, he’d let himself fall sideways and curled up into a ball, with a heavy blanket wrapped around him, staring blankly ahead at the tv.

The tv was off, but he didn’t know where the remote was and he couldn’t seem to make his head work enough to find words to fit into his mouth. Clint was weary. The kind of weary that was bone deep, a cold chilling his bones and numbing his mind. He shivered under the blanket and wished he had another one.

A weight settled beside him but he didn’t even twist to see who it was. It was too heavy to be Nat. Tony wouldn’t have been quiet about entering the room, Bruce was on walkabout, Thor was back in Asgard – that left Sam, Bucky or Steve.

“You okay, Barton?” It was Bucky, voice filled with concern.

“M’fine,” Clint muttered.

“What kind of fine has you staring at a blank screen?” Bucky’s question was dubious and, well, he was kinda right.

“Jus’ tired,” Clint said. He knew his voice was no more than a mumble, but Bucky – like Steve – had good ears.

“Pretty sure your room has a bed,” Bucky said. There was amusement now, but Clint ignored him. He shivered, instead and a slow thought occurred to him. Bucky was a super soldier. Super soldiers ran hot. Bucky would be even better than a _blanket_.

With this revelation, Clint squirmed on the couch until he could drape himself over Bucky’s lap. He sighed, a little of the chill leaving him as he melted into Bucky’s warmth.

Bucky, it appeared, wasn’t as pleased with this turn of events. “What the –“ a hand brushed Clint’s hair back from his face and pressed against his head. “Jesus, Clint, you’re burning up.”

“Nuh uh, S’cold,” Clint said, his voice smothered in Bucky’s shirt.

“Your voice is raspy too,” Bucky said, his fingers stroking along Clint’s face. “Have you had any liquids? Food?”

Clint didn’t really answer. He didn’t have the energy.

“Doll, you gotta answer me,” Bucky coaxed.

“Not hungry, just tired. An’ cold,” Clint managed.

Bucky sighed, the sound so resigned that Clint almost winced. “You’re sick, doll.”

“No!” Clint struggled to sit up on weak limbs, finally getting to his knees and practically crashing into Bucky. “If I was sick, would I do this?” He licked Bucky’s cheek, grinning triumphantly before the reality of what he’d done hit him and they _both_ froze.

After a moment, Bucky shook his head. “Yeah, you would, you little shit. And yes, you are,” Bucky said. 

Clint deflated, his defiance burning out quick and sudden as relief that Bucky hadn’t apparently read any more into that than he should have ran through Clint. He either thought Clint was just being dumb, silly (not mutually exclusive) or was delirious from being sick – which he wasn’t!

Still, Bucky stood, easily picking Clint up as he did, tucking Clint’s head under his chin while one hand went under Clint’s knees and the other supported his back. “Come on, let’s take care of you properly.”

“M’not sick,” Clint protested, even as he nuzzled into Bucky’s shirt further. Now that Bucky brought it up, Clint was sure he was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Besides the bone deep weariness and the chills, he also had a headache and his stomach was twisting. But he couldn’t be sick. He couldn’t allow himself to be taken down by a stupid little cold. How could he do his job if he couldn’t answer the call to assemble?

If he couldn’t assemble, he wasn’t part of the team. If he wasn’t part of the team, then he didn’t belong here and he’d have to leave –

Before he knew it, his shivers had upgraded to shaking and he wasn’t sure they were all chill induced, but having some sort of a panic attack wasn’t much better for his future as an Avenger.

It wasn’t like they’d miss him – Bucky was a sniper too and _he_ wouldn’t be taken out by something as lowly as the common cold.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Clint? Stop struggling – do you want to hurt yourself?” Bucky asked. “We’re almost to your rooms, okay? We’ll have you all settled in a jiffy.”

“M’not sick,” Clint repeated. “Can’t be sick…”

“JARVIS? Can you get the door?”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes, and good luck. Agent Barton is notorious for refusing medical aid.”

Oh man, even JARVIS was turning against him. The glide of Bucky through the tower had been smooth, but Clint’s stomach was still swooping dangerously. Struggling had made him feel worse, so he went limp against Bucky and heard Bucky draw a breath in sharply.

Before he knew it, Clint was being lowered into his bed and he sunk down into it. Bucky left him with his blanket and said, “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned, Clint had burritoed himself under 2 more blankets.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Bucky said, pulling all but one of the blankets – the original blanket – away. Clint whined at the loss. “You’ve got a fever _and_ chills. Can’t have you overheating on me, okay doll? Here, I got you some aspirin and some water. Think you can swallow it for me?”

It wasn’t what Clint _wanted_ to swallow, but he’d been keeping a lid on that, and his inappropriate crush on Captain America’s bestie. He was sure that wouldn’t go over well. Bucky helped him sit up right and even held the glass – Clint’s hand was shaking too hard to hold it steady enough to drink from and his eyes filled with tears at the sight.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Bucky asked softly as Clint choked down the aspirin and the water and rolled away from him. It was bad enough Bucky was seeing him all helpless, he didn’t need to witness Clint crying over it.

Somehow, the rest of Clint didn’t get the message. “M’hands are shaking, Buck,” Clint sniffled into his pillow. “Couldn’t hold m’bow if my life depended on it – or anyone else’s.”

“So? So what, that kinda thing happens when you’re sick. You’ll get over it,” Bucky said soothingly.

“Can’t be an Avenger if I’m sick,” Clint sniffled again. “I’m gonna get kicked out.” He heard a small sigh, then felt the bed dip under Bucky’s weight and then Bucky was curled up against his back and he’d have frozen if he wasn’t so busy _being_ frozen and shivering his godddamned ass off.

What the fuck was Bucky doing in his bed?

An arm wrapped around Clint, a little hesitant, a little stiff, but then Bucky spoke. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works. You’re still an Avenger even if you’re sick. We don’t kick you off the team for having the sniffles, Clint.”

“I know that, but…” Clint trailed off. How could he explain it – how when he was with the circus, your ability to stay was tied to what you could do? How even the smallest failures had called harsh punishments down on his head, with threats of being left behind if he couldn’t perform to their expectations?

“Would you kick Nat out if she had a cold? Or Sam? Do you think Tony would _let_ someone kick him off the team for getting sick? Do you think Steve would be that cruel?” Bucky asked, logically.

“Of course not,” Clint said, his voice small. Bucky heard him just the same, giving his side a reassuring squeeze. Clint huffed out a wet laugh. “How dare you bring logic into this.”

“Right,” Bucky drawled. “I’m such a horrible person. Whatever was I thinking. Get some sleep, Clint, you need the rest.”

He started to draw away and Clint couldn’t help the whine, struggling to roll over and clutch at Bucky’s shirt. He stared up at Bucky’s face which was closer than he’d expected. His eyes burned, and he shivered as he asked, tremulously, “Stay?”

Bucky’s face softened and he sighed, dropping his head down to the pillow, Clint’s own relaxing back down now that he no longer had to strain to look at Bucky. The arm around Clint had left Bucky’s hand dangling over his side with the shift, and his hand came up to Clint’s back, rubbing up and down gently. “Yeah, I can stay.”

Clint finally relaxed, eyes drifting shut. He should be embarrassed for asking, for needing Bucky to stay, for _licking_ him, for showing his insecurities – but he _was_ tired, after all. And maybe if he could sleep, the cold would be gone when he woke up. It worked like that, sometimes, right?

* * *

Someone was shaking him – or maybe he was still shaking – gasping and shivering and dizzy, eyes and head swimming with the effort to open his eyes. someone was talking to him – he thought? Maybe?

“Clint, doll, your fever’s too high. I’ve got JARVIS running you a bath, okay? Do you think you can do that, or do you need help?”

“Nat?” Clint asked muzzily.

“I’m so sorry. Nat can’t come, they sent her on a mission yesterday, remember? Should be back today, but I don’t know when. I’m sorry, it’s just me. Or, or I can get someone else? Uh, Steve or…” Bucky’s voice sounded anxious and Clint reached out for him with his shaking hands.

“S’okay, m’fine,” Clint said. He tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and stand, but his knees gave way and Bucky caught him, mumbling something Clint didn’t pick up.

“You’re _not_ fine, Clint. I can take you down to medical –“

“No!” Clint gasped sharply, clutching at Bucky’s shoulders. If he let go, he knew he’d fall. Bucky was right, he _was_ burning up, but he couldn’t stop shivering either. “Y’can help,” Clint said, batting blindly at Bucky’s shoulder when his head slumped forward into Bucky’s chest.

“Are you sure?”

Clint nodded into the shirt and shivered. “But don’ carry me again. Might get sick.”

“Got it, doll,” Bucky said, slinging Clint’s arm over his shoulder and shifting him so Bucky could help walk him over to the bathroom. The best thing about living at Starks place was the bathroom, Clint had always said (as Bucky helped him undress, his hands hovering at the waistband of Clint’s boxers – Clint would have rolled his eyes except, he was pretty sure that would be a bad idea right this moment) was that it was big – plenty of room to maneuver, and the biggest bathtub Clint had ever seen that wasn’t actually a pool. Or a jacuzzi.

He pushed at his boxers half heartedly and Bucky helped when Clint ran out of steam, then eased him into the tub. Clint hissed as his skin hit the water, like fucking _ice_. What the hell? Why would Bucky and JARVIS shove him into cold water when he was already fucking freezing?

No, Bucky would never be that cruel when a man was hurt or sick. So, it couldn’t actually be as cold as it felt like, but then, that really meant Clint was fucked up. Maybe they’d found a new disease? Maybe they’d name it after him. Barton disease. Heh.

Either way, Clint resisted lowering down the rest of the way but Bucky was firm. “There’s something wrong with th’water,” Clint slurred out.

“It’s lukewarm, Clint,” Bucky said patiently. “I promise, it’s not gonna hurt you.”

He pulled over a chair he’d gotten from Clint’s kitchen and he sat in it, obviously to make sure Clint didn’t drown himself through sheer incompetence. He had another glass of water. “Here, drink this. You think you can try any soup?”

“Don’t wan’ soup. Wan’ coffee,” Clint said, resting his head against the tiled wall, draping his arm over the side of the tub and closing his eyes. He should probably take his aides out, they were already uncomfortable for being in so long, and then sleeping with them when he shouldn’t, but when all his other senses were fucked up from being sick, he couldn’t bring himself to cut himself off form another one.

“No,” Bucky said firmly.

“Yer a tyrant, Buck,” Clint whined. “Why do I even like you?”

“You like me?” Bucky’s voice was so soft, so shocked, that Clint’s eyes were popping open to stare at Bucky.

“Of course I like you, Bucky,” Clint said, his head lolling to the side to get a better view of Bucky. “You think I go around licking just everybody?” Oh god, why’d he bring that back up? He scrambled to move past it, Bucky’s eyes gone wide. “You’re a good guy, we got a lot in common, you put up with my shit on a daily basis and the fact that you’re hot as fuck just… yummmmmm…”

Oops. He’d meant to keep that part under wraps. Still, an ego boost was an ego boost, right? Maybe Bucky didn’t notice, maybe Clint could play it cool. 

“Why would you even doubt it? I think we hang out, like, every day.”

Bucky was staring at him, wide eyed and open mouthed, like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “But I’ve done –“

 _Oh fuck no. No, no, no._ Clint surged forward, splashing water everywhere, splashing it all over Bucky too. He twisted and slumped over the edge of the tub as he tried to reach for Bucky with his hands, managing only to grab handfuls of Bucky’s jeans. Bucky startled. “What – ?”

“Stop that!” Clint growled. “You don’t think we haven’t all done horrible things? Natasha was brainwashed by the Red Room when she was a kid. I was raised by the Circus of Crime. Loki took control of my brain. Stark made weapons for the highest bidder. When Bruce lost control for the first time…”

 _Fuck, stop, stop, stop_ , Clint yelled at himself but his mouth wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to make Bucky feel _worse_.

“Natasha didn’t know any better. I didn’t have any control. Tony… doesn’t matter. We got wise, we turned over new leaves and we’ve dedicated our lives to _helping_ others. You did too, man. Bucky, you’ve been through more than most of us combined. Maybe all of us, I don’t wanna do the math, okay? I’m sick, do _not_ make me do the math – “

The words surprised a chuckle out of Bucky and Clint eased up a little. Maybe he wasn’t gonna make things worse.

“Point is – what you did? It wasn’t your choice. Your choices were taken away from you and you broke free, okay? You got out, and you’re strong, and you’re doing good. Cause at the core of you, you’re a good man and fuck if I don’t love you for it,” Clint said. “Please, stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Love?” Bucky’s voice was strangled now, all the amusement gone.

Clint blinked. _Oh, shit._ “Oh shit. Did I say that out loud? C’mon man, I got a fever. I’m delirious. Got no clue what I’m saying. Please don’t be mad at me,” Clint begged, letting go of Bucky’s jeans. “I can still be friends. I know how to do that, promise.”

Bucky stood, the chair falling to the floor with a clatter and Clint stopped breathing, he was sure, his eyes blurred with tears –

And then suddenly Bucky’s face was inches from his own and Clint blinked again as hands grasped his face gently, Bucky’s eyes boring into Clint’s.

“I’m not the only one around here hard on themselves, sweetheart,” Bucky said gruffly. “And you’re not the only one harboring feelings for an ex assassin.”

“Nat-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I ain’t spendin’ all the free time I think I can get away with without it being weird with Nat. I’m spendin’ it with you, doll,” Bucky said, his Brooklyn drawl getting thicker with nearly every word. “You think there might be a reason for that?”

One of his thumbs stroked across the stubble lining Clint’s jaw. Clint gulped and one hand came up and covered Bucky’s. Not pulling it away, but just… touching, holding. Connecting.

“You… like me too?” Clint asked.

“Pretty sure I just admitted to more than,” Bucky said. “But you’re sick, so I’ll forgive you.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“That’s me. I’m a magnanimous sort of guy,” Bucky said. “Now how ya feelin’? That fever go down any? Think you can hold some food down now?’

“Aw, Buck,” Clint groaned, closing his eyes and leaning in to Bucky’s hands. “We were having a romantic moment, why you gotta ruin it like that?”

“Cuase I just wanna take care of my fella. See, he’s feelin’ pretty miserable about now, an’ I’m gonna do what I can to fix it,” Bucky said.

“You do, Buck, just by being here,” Clint said. Maybe that was cheesy, but it was true. Somehow, even when he was being unreasonable, Bucky made things better, made it harder to think bad things about himself.

* * *

Eventually, Bucky deemed bathtime was over, gently toweling Clint down and tucking him back into his bed with a fresh, clean blanket. “Other one’s got germs on it, doll. It needs to be washed. Maybe even burned.”

“Aww, blanket, no,” Clint said. “Don’t burn it! It’s my favorite. Anyways, I’m still sick. I’m just gonna spread more germs.”

“Weaker ones by now, I hope,” Bucky said. “I think your fever’s broke.” He ran a hand over Clint’s forehead followed by a soft press of his lips. “Mmm. Still hot, but it _is_ going down.”

“Mmmm… going down,” Clint said, waggling his eyebrows.

Bucky choked. “Jesus, doll, your filters’re even worse when you’re sick.” But he didn’t look mad so Clint was counting it as a win.

“I just confessed my love, so are you really complaining?”

“Not really,” Bucky admitted. “Now stay here. Gonna get you some soup.”

Bucky disappeared before Clint could tell him he didn’t _have_ any soup in his kitchen, and he was pretty sure Bucky hadn’t had time to _make_ any.

Had he?

Now that he thought about it, maybe Bucky had made it when Clint was sleeping. There was nothing to say that Bucky had stayed in the bed with him the whole time before he was woken for a bath.

And it was stupid to feel abandoned when he wouldn’t have even known that.

Bucky returned with a steaming bowl on a tray and a mug behind the bowl. Clint perked up.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“No, it’s not coffee.”

Clint pouted.

Bucky ignored him.

Bucky set the tray down and climbed into the bed beside Clint. After getting themselves settled and the tray steadied, Clint started on the soup. It was mostly broth, with some rice and tiny, _tiny_ pieces of chicken, and maybe a few other things, just as tiny, but it was good. The first few spoonful’s were shaky, but he’d managed them, but then the third one dribbled over his shirt and the fifth one spilled almost completely before Bucky eased the spoon out of his hand and Clint slumped into Bucky’s side, using Bucky’s shoulder to support his head.

He finished about half the soup with Bucky’s help before he started to drift and Bucky must have moved the tray because Clint woke up some time later, laying down again, with Bucky pressed against his back, three blankets over him and his shivering stopped.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t still sick. Just because his fever broke didn’t mean he was back to a hundred percent but Bucky patiently, efficiently – dare Clint say, lovingly? - took care of him through all of it.

Nat came back from her mission on the second day and her eyebrows raised when she caught Bucky and Clint cuddling on the couch together watching tv. Steve had already come by earlier that morning to make sure the two of them were okay and he’s smiled when he’d seen them like this.

Nat wasn’t smiling. Nat was doing one of those inscrutable looks that gave nothing away. Was she angry? Disappointed? Surprised?

“I’m glad,” she said. “The two of you deserve good things.”

Clint blushed.

“Does the rest of the team know?” she asked.

Bucky and Clint exchanged glances. “Uh, Steve knows,” Clint says. “Does that count?”

Nat shook her head. “It’s a start,” she said, before standing and dropping a kiss to Clint’s cheek and Bucky’s forehead. She left and Clint stared after her, then turned to Bucky.

“How _do_ we tell the rest of the team?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t really think it’s any of their business. I say if it comes up, we say something.”

“Or…” Clint said. “we could totally mess with them.”

Bucky eyed him suspiciously, which, fair. “What?”

* * *

They emerged from Clint’s rooms for lunch, heading down to the common area. Bruce was the first one to see the two of them, Clint shamelessly leaning on Bucky because he _wanted_ to, not because he _needed_ to, all right?

“Hey, I heard you were sick. How are you feeling?” Bruce asked.

“Miserable,” Clint said with a groan and a sniff. Bucky’s fingers dug into his sides as he hammed it up. It was hard not to laugh. Bruce then launched into a list of suggestions of things that could help, Bucky countering with all the things he _had_ been doing as he guided Clint to the table and settled him in.

The others trickled in, each voicing their own concerns and well wishes and Clint _almost_ felt bad for the joke they planned.

“Should you be out of bed?” Steve asked. “Bucky, you should bring him back to bed before he gets everyone sick.”

Tony froze and backed away slowly. “Oh, no. Nuh uh… stay away from me, Legolas! I don’t have a super soldier constitution and I don’t want to get sick. I’ve got too much going on right now to be sick.”

Clint pretended to lurch off his stool, and towards Tony, inwardly laughing as Tony backed away before Bucky got ahold of Clint’s shoulders and steered him back.

Tony edged around them, giving them a wide, wide berth while he glared at them both.

“Yeah, you keep your germs to yourself,” Tony said.

“What if I don’t want to?” Clint challenged Tony. Everybody took a big step back.

Tony took several.

Okay, maybe he should stop being a dick about this and get it done with. He still had one last part of the plan to enact, a part that he hadn’t even told Bucky about.

He tugged on Bucky’s hand, pulling him close enough for Clint to lean forward and lick a long, wet stripe right up Bucky’s cheek. Because yeah, Clint’s whole plan boiled down to licking Bucky.

Bucky stared at him like he’d sprouted another head. Steve and Nat sighed. Sam blanched – at the idea of _anyone_ willingly licking Bucky, Clint was pretty sure – Bruce shook his head and Tony was gaping at him.

Clint smiled at Bucky serenely.

“Why – no, wait,” Bucky pinched his nose and breathed. “That’s the second time you’ve straight up, licked me, Clint. Tell me, this _wasn’t_ what you were planning?”

“It was,” Clint chuckled.

“How is _licking_ me going to announce that we’re dating?”

“Because no one else would want Clint cooties,” Nat said. “And you didn’t exactly try to get away.”

“Dating?” Tony’s voice could actually reach pretty high registers, Clint thought. Who knew? “Since when?”

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky said, ignoring Tony’s increasingly higher pitched questions. If Tony kept going at this rate, Clint was turning off his aids. “You just laid claim to me in front of the rest of the Avengers?”

“I licked you, so you’re mine,” Clint said proudly.

“Doll, there were way better ways to do that,” Bucky said dryly.

“Was nobody going to tell me about this?” Tony nearly shrieked.

“Oh?” Clint asked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Just this,” Bucky said softly before laying claim to Clint with a kiss that melted Clint’s knees.

Okay, maybe Bucky was right, but hey, Clint was sick. Had been sick. He maybe wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders here. If he had, he’d have suggested a kiss right off the bat, cause wow… and well, there wasn’t any mistaking a kiss like that for anything else, so, the rest of the team _definitely_ knew _now_ and why had Bucky kept these kisses to himself? This was a travesty against mankind – no, against _Clint!_

Clint pulled Bucky closer, arms sliding around Bucky’s neck as the kiss deepened, resolving to get as much kissing in as he could. Too soon, they had to pull away, Clint breathless from the kiss, staring into Bucky’s eyes as Bucky gazed at him wonderingly.

How Bucky could feel like that about someone like him, he didn’t know, but Clint wasn’t going to fight it, didn’t _want_ to fight it for once in his life.

“Steve, I think you’re right. I’m still sick and Bucky absolutely needs to take me right back to bed,” Clint declared.

Bucky grinned, pulled Clint back up into the same bridal carry he’d used the last time he’d found Clint in this room, and strode towards the door without even a backward glance. Clint didn’t bother with one either, too easily transfixed on Bucky. The elevator doors opened as they approached and they – Bucky – stepped inside, the doors sliding shut on a last, plaintive wail -

_“Dating?!”_

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why Tony's flipping out about this so much - i think it's the idea that this happened right under his nose and he didn't KNOW and Tony hates NOT KNOWING things


End file.
